Category: Starting Over

“R is for Regression”

Last week I had a very bad week. It felt like a lightening bolt had struck down from above and stunned me into a negative, off kilter, zombie like state of functioning. I had no desire to do much of anything. I emotionally worked myself up to being physically ill. Sick to my stomach and in tears….leading me to have to leave work. Leave work with wide eyed stares of colleagues wondering what the hell was going on with our “happy-go-lucky, energetic, workhorse Kate.” I isolated and became a person many people in my current life do not recognize. The thing is I recognized her. I have  been her (THAT version of Kate) before. I somehow had regressed back into this state of being.

I had regressed from thriving all the way back to victim.

I have the education and copious amounts of reading background to intellectually understand healing is not linear. I know what triggers are and what they can do for others. The hard part of moving on from a sexual assault, personal trauma, relationship hurt, professional heartbreak, depression, anxiety, PTSD, and two eating disorders during my teenage years is that I have not figured out my own personal triggers. My personal mentality is that moving on is fragmented into different levels. Set to the same parameters my Nike RUn app is, first you are at the green level, then you graduate onto blue once you have accomplished 700 miles, then you hit the milestone of purple when you hit 1000 miles, and so forth.

So it would appear that I have set my own set of rules to apply only to myself similar as I have with physical fitness goals. Well knowing its unattainable, knowing healing is not linear, knowing its unreasonable, but making myself go through it anyways. A bit of regression into perfectionism…shit.

I have spoken in pieces of having moved on from two eating disorders I struggled with starting as early as junior high. I self taught myself to withhold food as a method of control and staying “skinny.” Once my hormones and heartbreak of high school set in, I learned how to eat an enormous amount of food, stick my finger down my throat, and purge everything inside of me. It felt great, cathartic, and cleansing. I was thin, popular, in great athletic shape, and in a false “sense of control.” Then it started to become apparent and I developed shame over my control tactics. I have not purged since my early 20s or regressed into anorexic like behavior since I was assaulted in Fall 2015. (I refused to eat for the most part, I just …well..I just couldn’t…)

My reason for sharing all of this is that I realized last week I haven’t figured out my triggers, but I have figured out my own personal “tells.” I can’t manage triggers or how they make me feel, but I can manage my coping skills much more efficiently. I skipped meals and felt proud of it last week. I stared at a piece of food and wondered if I would absorb any calories if I devoured it and purged for the first time in over a decade. I chose chardonnay over protein shakes and longer planned runs. I lashed out at others, my stomach hurt, I slept too much, and then too little.

I knew what was happening and fought with myself internally about it. My mind trickled back to my best friend staring at me in our high school bathroom asking me “Why do your teeth look yellow again? Please be honest!” (She was one of the few that knew about the bulimia.) I looked in the mirror at my 32 year old smile, down at the whitening trays stored in my vanity and briefly flashed back to my 17 year old self scrubbing my teeth with baking soda and peroxide in the mirror.  I do not want to go back here, I don’t have time to go back through the exhaustion of this. I regressed, but I found a way to talk myself out it. I went for a walk with the dog instead, and went to bed early (with something to help me sleep because I knew I needed too.)

My own word definition for 2017 is growth. Just as I am working to redefine forgiveness and where it fits in my life; I have to understand growth may have to be a fluid definition. Anytime I have a setback, I need to acknowledge it versus chalking it up to utter failure. Chunks of miles are measurable, unwinding of emotional damage are not. It’s not a marathon I get to finish and sign off as “check” completed. All of my past happenings are components of who I am today. For the first time in years, I have admitted to a part of myself I blocked out. My attack and assault at 31 was not my first. There is 20 year old inside of me that has also been stunted. Isolated until the next trigger comes forward.

My healing growth is going to have to be a roller coaster, one day at time, and working through the destructive coping skills I have. I regressed and felt useless to helping myself and others. This is not growth thinking. It’s hurtful.

I am far from the growth I wish to have (in all areas of life), but admitting my imperfections, thoughts, areas, of weakness, are the first steps. Crawling, walking, and running have to be interchangeable depending on the day, and that is OKAY!

May be the R in growth is also interchangeable between regression and renewal…its a thought.

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“Back to My Future”

“Stayed in bed all morning just to pass the time…..

…Its too late baby, now its too late. Something inside has die and I just can’t fake it.”

~Carole King, “It’s Too Late”

********* Trigger Warning: This was originally drafted on the 1 year anniversary of my sexual assault, October 21, 2016.*********

Do you ever replay things in your mind and wonder if a split second decision, leaving 5 minutes earlier/later, choosing a different route, listening to a different radio station, and so many other of life’s smallest moments could’ve changed your fate?

I torture myself. I go over every detail of that day and I wonder how I could’ve changed the course of my history. I lie awake staring at the cracks in the ceiling above my bed and go over every mind numbing, meniscal, isolated second of that day. I had slept somewhat later that morning. The combination of too much chardonnay the night before, a late night (out of character) outing that kept me out until nearly 1 am, and a personal shit storm of a shame cloud due to personal decision making. I swung my feet over the right side of my sunlit grey warmth of my bed as I did every morning and staggered to my Keurig in the kitchen.

I had the best of intentions to make it a great day. It was one of those amazingly gorgeous Fall days in Michigan that you hear Tim Allen voice over on ” Pure Michigan” commercials. I had paused to take in the splendor of fall foliage from my balcony view. I was still clad in my nightgown, and popped open the screen to let my cats slink out wide eyed to the balcony. I saw the date on my phone as a familiar morning message broke my face out into a smile. It was about to be “Back to the Future 2 Day” tomorrow.

I go over this scene of my ordinary, unassured bliss from that morning over and over in my head. I ask myself a million questions all starting with “what if?” I revert back to the them of the same movie I would share a horrendous occasion with, how can I go back in time and “undo” my future?

  • What if I had swung my legs over the left side of the bed?
  • What if I had gone out for coffee, walked to the bagel shop down the road?
  • What if I had gotten up earlier and gone for a long walk or run?
  • What if I had turned off my phone and let my mind think free of interruptions??
  • What if had stayed home the night before, and not created the guilt hiding in the back of my mind?

I once read a statement by the late Christopher Reeve regarding the days leading up to his accidental fall from a horse that left him paralyzed. He was a huge movie star at the time-handsome, wealthy, happy, athletic and in his own “unassured bliss.” Reeve stated in the interview that he saw a man in a wheelchair not too much before his life altering incident and had pity for the man. He describes his actions of almost being arrogant or “better than.” Reeve stated in this interview that he had reflected deeply on this one, brief moment, and pondered if he had thrown bad karma into the universe. He wondered if that moment helped lead him to his physical sentence of being wheelchair bound.

I deeply relate to this interview as I have tortured myself with the same shaming thoughts as I replay this moment over and over again. It was a beautiful day outside, but I was not in a beautiful place in life. I was lying to myself, to others, I was not performing at my full potential and settling for relationship behavior that I knew deep in my heart was wrong (and I had said I never would have engaged in.) I had committed some “serious girl on girl crime”, as  Tina Fey would state. Do women wish each other such harm? Had I put bad energy into the universe, “planted a seed”,  that I deserved to be punished for?

I assimilate further in my darker moments, is there such a thing as “rape karma?”  I define it as “torturous, self-inflicted victim blaming that I can nightly impose on myself. Its a brand new term of hell that I have branded myself with. Let’s be honest most of its self inflicted by replaying the BEFORE that day mixed with a special recipe of horrifying victim blaming after the fact.

I had been listening to John Lennon with the door open that afternoon. Music specifically chosen to let my mind think, and in an odd way of deep reflection. The mid-morning warm embrace that left me feeling lonely this afternoon had sparked months prior  with a dance to John Lennon on vinyl. I had no idea that would be the last embrace either. I can see myself pacing my living roon, pondering what I should do that evening. I had waited to charge my laptop before dinner. Pacing and listening to music.

Why didn’t I go pick up the books I had on hold at the East Lansing library? I had been dying to read “Rising Strong,” why hadn’t I just gotten up and traveled the few blocks? Why hadn’t I picked up this book, sat outside, and let the late afternoon sun hit my face? My face was raw, pure, and unmarred that day. Afterwards, would always carry a faint scar I would try to hide-reminiscent of brutality and forever marked. It may have been the last time I was vulnerable to allowing my naked face to hit the sun. Before I externally and physically showcased my internal self.

Where is my Delorean? Why do I hear Carole King echoing in my brain that “it’s too late?”  How do I go back in time and change the days, hours, minutes, seconds that became my fate?  10, 20, 30, 60 seconds? How much could I change? How many seconds was I unconscious? How many seconds do I need to correct in order to not wake up broken on a public sidewalk. How much further do I need to go back to not dance to John Lennon, how much further back do I need to go?

You could argue that the nightly “Kate beatings” are reminiscent of the film “Ground Hog Day” instead of the previous title. Of course I know I didn’t deserve this, but did my actions leading up to this magnify the risk? What could I have done differently? Where in time did my destiny become apparent? WHY can’t I stop blaming myself and reliving that day when I can’t sleep?

Victim blaming topped with a whopping side of PTSD is deep. The reality in life, is that we don’t get “do overs”, we don’t get time machines, we never get to know  what split second decisions we made would have full blown consequences, consequences that would lead to a less desirable fate. When things do go horribly wrong though, I will quote Carole King, “something inside has died and I just can’t fake it.” I reminisce in that day because something inside of me DID die that day, and I can’t fake my reality.

The only plus side is I will probably never, ever take a beautiful sunny Fall day for granted again. Ever.

 

Won’t You Please Give Me Love…

“Give me love
Give me love
Give me peace on earth
Give me light
Give me life
Keep me free from birth
Give me hope
Help me cope, with this heavy load
Trying to, touch and reach you with,
Heart and soul”

George Harrison, ~Give Me Love~

When is the last time you gave up hope on something?

It could have been when the clock was winding down to the last few seconds of the 4th quarter of a football game and an ominous loss of your team came to fruition. May be you had a great outdoor event planned and despite checking weather.com daily, the stone cold truth is, it is going to rain. You scrambled out of the office as early as possible to make it to an event to find yourself stuck in summertime road construction–no chance you will make it.

That’s the thing about life, we all have dreams, aspirations, plans, goals, and future accomplishments that we hope come to fruition. I have been accused of being a bit of a dreamer by someone close to me. I wouldn’t say I dream as much as hope that by putting positive out into the world it will come back to me. I hope that by planning ahead for the work week, I will have enjoyable stress free mornings setting myself up for success. I hope that by being cognitive of what nutrition I put in my body I will retain good health and longevity of life. I hope that by adhering to a running schedule I will be able to attain life long goals of fitness, stress relief, and future looming races. I don’t feel I’m a dreamer; more of an optimist that relishes in my world of hope that things will turn out somewhat how I aspire for them to turn out.

So what happens when your hope turns to dismay?

Life throws curveballs and things that would never happen become reality. Death and serious illness occur. Divorce or a relationship ending can rock a person’s world. You don’t get accepted into your university of choice, you don’t have the pace to qualify for the Boston marathon, or your presentation falls flat in front of your colleagues. You succumb to a hard time in life and begin to lose hope.

The thing about hardships in life that we tend to call people out behind their backs instead of lovingly bringing them in. It is so easy to judge another person while sitting in the stands with another (friend) parent about a family in your child’s school. Its not your hope or your dreams that are shattered, its their hard time. It’s easy to state that we wish people the best; but do we really practice what we preach here?

I don’t think we do even with the best of intentions (its not our hopes and dreams being shattered after all.)

I recently witnessed someone read the front page of the newspaper about a local person being the cause of an auto accident that took power away from a patch of neighborhoods near us. It was stated this person was over the legal alcohol limit and was arrested. A person well known in the area that you would say hello to and shake their hand. I watched the person reading this call their closest friend (and someone else familiar with the individual) and say, “Hey! Did you see who is on the front page of the paper and got arrested for…” I had to walk away because I felt a feeling of disgust wash over me and wanted to not react out of a place of emotion.

(Please note that I do not condone ever operating a vehicle while under the influence as I state this below.)

Can you imagine being that person? Being the spectacle of a local town and now facing legal ramifications everyone knows about? I can empathize. This was a person who I understood had hoped to retire very soon, a person I had met in a formal interview setting and treated me with utmost respect and decency. This person is now being publically called out (behind their back more than likely.)

Guess what, we all make mistakes in life! Some mistakes have minimal impact of a $5.00 late fee on a cable bill for forgetting to pay. Some mistakes impact out health and make others responsible for our well being. Some mistakes have serious, long term, and impactful circumstances. The choices we make as a person have create our futures, and impact our hopes and dreams.

The real reality is we are always secretly glad that it’s someone else’s “bad luck or down time.” It’s not our hopes and dreams crumbling around us. I would be willing to bet that most people would not be willing to admit this out loud. I am going to take a bold step here and own the fact that I now would. I would now due to having my own hopes and dreams crash and have to be recreated this past year. The paradigm shift of being on the other side of the whispering is realizing just how very real, close to, relatable, and human a person in distress is. I look back at some of the conversations and judgment I have had of others in the past and fully see how wrong I was. How wrong it was for me to call people out behind their backs, secretly relish in the fact that it in fact wasn’t me, and consider myself a bigger person for it. There is nothing elite about judging another person. There is no moral high ground in feeling superior to someone in turmoil. Saying, “well how terrible” or “I hope things turn” around with an underlying tone of judgment does not make it right.  Thinking something could never happen to you is asinine.

What would you do if you woke up tomorrow and you were front page news for your biggest mistake? Dig deep. Dig really deep and think about the biggest error in judgment you made. Something bigger than turning left, instead of right to beat traffic. I am willing to bet that you would be stuck in a shame cloud that would prevent future hope.

My point? Either show compassion and bring someone in; or say nothing at all. Be very careful for what you perceive as someone’s own fault and something they may be deserve. Your grass is never greener than that persons. Mentally actually wish someone the best. If you are person of faith, pray for them. Tell people you hear gossiping that its not okay and its hurtful. Look someone in the eye and sincerely ask them how you can be supportive of them. Categorize your own hopes and dreams, put yourself in that person’s shoes, and show compassion. Connection and compassion are two things that essentially drive the human race.

I own my past judgment of others and also own my own mistakes that I didn’t anticipate in life. I am not perfect by any means. I’ll make more “left turns” in life and I will come to snap judgments of others misfortunes. I will strive to avoid doing both and learn moving forward.

As for my own hopes and dreams, I do believe the late George Harrison’s former band mate John Lennon did state, “You may say I’m a dreamer….but I’m not the only one….” No John you aren’t the only one; I will keep on planning with hope and aspirations of a dreamer.

May be I will even special order a special pair of “Lennon style” rose colored, compassion embossed glasses.

It couldn’t hurt. Truly.

“Life Happened Without My Plans”

“When I was younger, so much younger than today, I never needed anybody’s help in any way.

But now these days are gone, I’m not so self assured, Now I find I’ve change my mind and opened up the doors.

Help me if you can, I ‘m feeling down And I do appreciate you being around.”

~”Help!”, The Beatles~

 

I am bout to turn 32 this week. I sometimes feel like I blinked at 18 and wound up this in the body of a 30 something year old over night. I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling that time goes by too quickly. I have been reflecting on some of the ideas and myths I had created about how my life was supposed to be in my early 30s. I find some of it amusing and some of it hard to work through. Preconceived notions are just that, notions of ideas in this thing called life you cannot predict.

Some of my own personal stories (myths) I told myself would be reality by this age:

  1. I don’t have a picket fence, sparkly left hand diamond, or a life partner: I’m going to be very open and put out there at the age of 18; a huge part of my life goals and dreams were to be happily married in my mid 20s. This to me was just part of the way life worked out, what I had engrained in my mind from the age of young girl, and what society (myself included) thought should happen. It was just part of the pattern in life that a woman was supposed to take. You were to go to a 4 year college, start a few meaningful relationships in your early 20s, have something stick post graduation, get married, settle down into: careers, suburbia, and parenthood. Your 30s were for appreciating your growing wealth, having student loans paid off, rearing school aged children, climbing the ladder at work, being part of book/wine clubs with girlfriends, and your next worry being should your family drive or fly to your next vacation. My life would be moving towards the “summer of my days.” Here is the real deal, I have dated…..a lot! I put myself out there and had some long term relationships with men I still care deeply about. I had my heart broken. My  romantic dreams burst like a bubble. Why is this? The reality is relationships are hard work. This dream life goal that involved Waterford Crystal at the 15th year mark never once included serious illness (ovarian cancer), job loss, career stalemates, relocations, differences in how your would rear children, arguments over burnt toast in the morning and more.
    1. So no, I don’t have a life partner/husband but I’ve put myself out there. I’ve gone on an amazing amount of bad dates. One man even had his credit card denied after showing off by ordering fancy wine, appetizers you name. He racked up quite a huge bill….and then he got angry his card was cut off. He literally accused me of having a fake rack and nice things some other rich man had bought me. Needless to say, I sternly asked him to leave and called a girlfriend. (I enjoyed the rest of the wine that I paid for and for the record I have no surgical enhancements.)
    2. Despite events like the horrendous date listed above.I was always optimistic and upfront with all of these men. If I really saw nothing progressing further; I was upfront. My aunt told me to never burn bridges with a respectful man just because you don’t feel a “spark.” I didn’t settle for anything I knew I didn’t want. I may have been over picky.
    3. I’ve learned how to be incredibly self sufficient and figure out how to do things like fixing the garbage disposal by myself (it was a disgusting task I hope to never do again by the way…) I’ve gone to weddings solo and had a great time. I’ve learned how to be my own plus ones whether taking myself to the movies, reading in a coffee shop, or attending something I wanted to go see.
    4. I didn’t settle. There were some men I could’ve “stuck it out with” and just “been.” I would’ve been happy on paper and miserable deep inside. I stuck to my own truth about what I truly wanted.
    5. I still ache at the end of a stressful day for a person to have my back, vent to, and be my “other half.” I have learned that the very best part of a relationship is having someone just there. That person who is in your corner always, tells you when you are wrong (kindly), and wants the very best from you. I’ve had this in relationships and sincerely wish I would’ve valued it more when it was in my present. I openly admit I see this in other’s relationships and enviously wish for the same in my future.
  2. All of my internal struggles would disappear by this age. My self esteem would be perfectly intact, body image issues would dissolve, and I would be at perfect happiness with myself. I am so incredibly guilty of the “I will be happy when..” syndrome for most of my life. I will be happy with my figure when I weigh X amount. I will be happy with who I am when I have a serious relationship progress to marriage. I will be happy with my looks when I can afford the really good spa treatments like Botox and cellulite removal. This ties directly into what I now understand about worthiness. I was tying my present happiness into my future aspirations (or lack of reaching those said aspirations.) We live in a world plastered with the idea of perfecting slowing down the aging process equates for a meaningful life. Reality people; we all age! I still highlight my hair, try to perfect covering up those enormous zits that pop up overnight, and seriously wonder if I would ever Botox wrinkles in the future.  I have made strides about tying my outer appearance to my self esteem; however I am a woman who can openly admit I still have daily struggles. I still wish I could remain a “perfect” size 2 without working out, and eating garbage. I would love waking up looking as airbrushed as the models I see in magazines. Those pesky laugh lines and wrinkles that keep appearing…well lets just say I wouldn’t hate it if they went away overnight.  The only difference in my projections and what I thought, is that I’m learning to not tie my own worthiness/happiness to perceived flaws in my appearance.
  3. I would be supermom of the year to 2+ kids. The reality is I am one of the few women in any of my friendships circles that doesn’t yet have children. I didn’t ever see 32 as a place in my life that didn’t include children. I love children and very much aspire to have my own children someday. Life threw reproductive issues (surgery and ovarian cancer in my later 20s.) Part of this experience made me realize how very much I DO wish to have children someday (and how much I would like to be a Mom.)  Part of this ideology comes from 20 years of watching other people’s children. Whether it was babysitting for my own cousins, being a full time nanny, being asked to watch my supervisors children and more; I have always been a go to of trusted support to watch other people’s children. Commentary such as, “you are such a natural, I’m sure you will have your own very soon!” consistently came from family, friends, and parents of children I watched. I am still at an age where I can healthily bear children. I need to let go of the notion that it has to be by a certain age. I also need to stop beating myself up for being one of the only women my age (that I know) without a start down the mommy hood path. I have to let go of this perfect notion and know that what happens will happen. Medical technology does amazing things and I’m very receptive to the idea of adoption. In the meantime, I get to be fun Aunt/Cousin Kate to so many children I love and adore. I get to spoil them rotten and send them home. Time will tell if these tables will turn.
  4. I would have more female friends than I did in my early 20s. Holy cow did I have this one wrong! My earlier 20s encompassed being a part of a group of 12 women that were very close friends in high school. I kept these friendships and then joined a sorority in college.  I was the house manager and lived amongst 51 other females for two years. I also made friends via my long term student employment at Michigan State University with quite a few other women. Facebook and the former Myspace came about when I was an undergrad. Thus began the “lets see how many friends I can gather notion.” Reality is not herding friends though. Whether it was an intentional or unintentional falling out; many of these friendships fizzled. People moving across the country, only including their married friends socially (yes this is something people do), or other mitigating factors caused several of these friendships to fade away. I have learned to truly value the female friendships old and new that I have nurtured. A few have stuck around from back in elementary school and some are more recent. Maturity has helped me to see what a truly authentic and genuine female friendship truly is. The women I still have as good friends in my life are what I classify as “quality friendships.” I can go months without seeing or talking to them and our conversations feel like they picked right back up from the last point. We understand that we all have busy lives, but still put the effort out there to acknowledge, celebrate, commiserate, listen to, and be there for each other as friends should. A lot of the women I used to be closer with in my earlier 20s  I still get to keep in touch with via social media. I wish them all well and enjoy seeing their life flourish. Growing up doesn’t mean you have to grow apart; but guess what its a part of life. I am very grateful for the women I have in my inner circle that I can call my close friends.
  5. Career and Education would be flourishing without a hitch. Majority of my career has revolved around University housing. This has been both on and off campus at Michigan State University. This has meant having to be able to work ridiculously long hours, deal with upset tenants, angry parents, make magic happen, follow the housing laws (federal and state), as well as handle those fun other duties as assigned. I had a notion in my mind when younger that as a hard working, positive, energetic young professional I would be fast promoted. This was part of wearing rose colored glasses and having a few fast promotions when I was younger. I always told myself that the next semester would be the one where I tied up those lingering extra undergraduate degrees or enrolled in a lifelong graduate class to merit towards the HALE program at Michigan State University. Reality is I didn’t receive some of the promotions I sincerely thought I deserved. I was deemed “aggressive” for speaking my voice and sticking to my belief system. My surgery (ovarian cancer) had to be scheduled when closing the residence halls. No one said this counted against me, but just like women who take the full maternity leave; the unspoken rule was that it did. I made mistakes as a supervisor I grew a lot from. I didn’t have the perfect unruffled streamline of climbing the hierarchical career ladder. I learned a lot though and never will put off my own personal pursuits for wanting more aside. As for being labeled aggressive; tough. If being an intelligent woman willing to speak my mind when approached makes me aggressive then so be it. I’ll own it (just may be work on the interpersonal approach in the future.) I’m in a transition period right now in my career and have quite a bit of time to really think about what I value in my professional aspirations. Professional heartbreak and setbacks are a part of a person’s career we don’t get a 100 level course about in undergrad.
  6. I would stand behind all of my life choices as they have made me who I am and not have a single regret. Okay I’m going to make fun of my own self…what a crock of shit! I can actually hear myself saying this in a past job interview, “I have no regrets because all of my choices have led me to where I am today.” Gag me with a vampire stack. I am the person I am today due to the choices I have made as an adult. I have learned from each and every one of them. I owe it to myself to be completely forthcoming and state that I 100% regret some of the decisions I have made. I wish there were times I had thought before speaking, processed something before reacting, separated the professional from the personal, and ended a relationship when it hits its expiration date. Majority of my mistakes and regrets came from a good place.  (Tell that to my mind when I keep wanting to replay it over and over again in head how it could’ve panned out differently.) Impact and intent really do matter in the scheme of things. There are specific actions or things I have said that hurt other people and I still feel very badly about. May be I always will on some level. The reality is I am human. I make mistakes which correlate to regrets. The better way to answer this is to “embrace the suck.” We all screw up. Own it and admit you were wrong. Real maturity is owning up to mistakes/regrets, and growing from them at some point.

The reality of being a young, single, female 30 something isn’t to proudly admit I’ve screwed up and become cynical. Part of my personal journey is admitting that I set up unachievable life standards, goals, and thought I must rigidly abide by them. The truth is beating myself up over what I have not accomplished is keeping me from enjoying the planned and unplanned things I have accomplished. I survived my 20s and am learning everyday to be more at peace with who I am (this took work!) I’ve leaned to “embrace the suck” and use it for motivation. My value as a person is not on preconceived notions society (and myself) have inflicted. I also never thought I’d have the cuts to love so fiercely that it would hurt so much when it was over. I never thought I’d have the courage to stand up in front of people and speak up for the minority of the group. I never thought I’d value myself as more than a number on the scale. I used to let a stain on my shirt ruin my day. I never thought I’d fall and have to pick myself up again. Guess what? I have and am doing it daily. I never thought I’d be brave enough to show my feminist values, and openly advocate for issues that effect women. Saying the word sex in front of a group of people would have made me run for the hills in my early 20s. Guess what? I now am going to be speaking out on sexual violence…publically. I’ve learned to embrace the suck and throw out the plans. I’ve pulled the cork out of my ass and learned to just live. I may not have a three car garage, extra educational intitals behind my title, perfect children, and an ideal life to date.

Here is the thing? NO ONE DOES! The people that portray that they do have the same internal struggles we all do and are just as human as you and I. As the late John Lennon said, ” Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans.”

Boy that couldn’t be further from the truth. Embrace the suck. Suck on a lemon. Enjoy the ride. As Lennon stated, “life happens”…and boy it sure does.